Juxaposition
by leian
Summary: Freedom does not always mean happiness. [NonRomantic SessRin] [One shot]


**Title**: Juxtaposition  
**Summary**: Freedom does not always mean happiness. A Sess+Rin _non-_romantic fic **Disclaimer**: I don't own anything. All belong to Rumiko Takahashi.

- - -

"Then _why_? Why did you bring me back? Why did you let me stay with you?"

Only silence met her anguished questions. Silence, and a deep sense of oppression that welled up, threatening to overwhelm her.

"Don't you... love me?" It came out a whisper, a plea, and she hated how weak she sounded.

He did not turn and she stared at the back of his head, holding herself as straight and proud as she could, clutching the tatters of her dreams, grasping her crumbling self-worth.

He said not a word.

Seconds stretched into a minute, each moment feeling like an eon, like eternity.

She willed him to answer; even if the answer was 'no', at least she would be able to put her foolish hopes to rest.

One minute became two. The tension grew, until the silence between them was taut as a string on a koto.

She could not breathe; there was something hard and tight lodged in her throat. She could not blink; her eyes were full and if she shut them, they would overflow, spilling salty betrayal.

Something had to break and, before she became that something, she pivoted on her heel, forcing herself to step slowly, deliberately. She knew he could hear every soft footfall and a futile, pathetic little part of her hoped that it would make him care, that he would be provoked into responding.

Her senses strained to the space behind her, acutely attuned to him. The barest shift, the faintest breath, the tiniest change would have stopped her.

But he was absolutely still, a pale figure carved out of marble.

Just inside the line of trees, she _almost_ paused, _almost_ gave him one last chance to stay her, but pride made her go on.

He had had his chance, had not taken it, by word or deed.

She left.

Her deliberate steps turned into an all-out sprint. All too quickly, her blind run turned into a dejected walk and then to a dismal standstill, to a crushed huddle against the rough bark of an ancient tree. It rained that night but she noticed only because of the puddles in the morning.

Perhaps the showers had somehow cleared her head. Strangely calm, she got up, brushed leaves off her and set out North. 

- - -

Rin managed a weak smile, but knew that the expression did little to take the sting out of her rejection. As she walked away, she did not look back, afraid of what she might see.

Isamu had a sunny disposition but there had been no sign of light-heartedness in him that afternoon. The earnest, jittery young man who asked her if he might speak to her father about marriage bore little resemblance to the care-free companion who had helped make her feel comfortable in her new home. 

She did not want to see his disappointment and so she kept her eyes forward and her step light until she reached the sanctuary of her room.

There was a beat of stillness after the shoji screen slid shut, and then Rin exhaled. It was a drawn out, mournful sound that deflated her.

She slid down to the floor, back pressed to the screen. Starring sightless into gathering gloom, she hugged her knees and rested her chin on top of them. Another sigh plagued her but she had neither the energy nor the breath for it. 

"What are you doing?" she muttered at herself. "He's a good boy, a good _man_."

It was only after she had spoken that she remembered where she had heard those words.

Saiyuri had said them, not two days ago. The reticent girl who had become her closest friend here in the village had watched Isamu with shrewd knowing and asked Rin what she would do when – not if, _when_ – he asked her to be his wife.

Unprepared, Rin had felt her face go rigid, frozen like a lake in winter. She tried to brush it off, but it was too late.

Saiyuri had stared. "You will say no."

There was no point in denying it. Rin had long ago realized that her friend did not say much, but Saiyuri watched and very little escaped her.

"Why not? He is a good man."

There had been silence, hated silence, but Rin could not bring herself to break it. It was mercifully brief, cut short when Saiyuri surmised, "There is someone else. You wish to marry for love."

That had drawn a laugh, one that was hard and nasty and made her ache inside. She felt her expression twist as her chin tilted at a superior angle she had observed from childhood. "No." It would never happen. Because...

_He did not love her. Did not want her._

A breath snagged, heralding yet another bout of tears. Hadn't she cried enough? "_Gomen_," she mumbled hastily and fled.

She spent the next two days cooped up in her hut, seeing no one until Isamu ventured out on the pretext of concern.

Whether he had come with the intent of proposing or if the question had slipped out on the spur of the moment, Rin found she did not care. It mattered only that he had asked and she had answered and perhaps that would end their friendship. If indeed, friendship it had been.

She suddenly felt very alone, very helpless.

Shaking herself, she got up and made herself think of all she had accomplished since leaving _him_. 

She had overcome her fear of humans. She had fended for herself and even managed to fish and trap and forage enough to trade for some things: clothes and tools and goodwill. She had found this village and claimed this abandoned house at its edge. Had restored it to liveable condition, with the help of a few villagers.

As she ran her eyes over the sparse bedchamber, walked the short passage between bedchamber and kitchen and main room, she spoke to him in her mind, _See this home, which I have made for myself. Filled with things I have chosen._

She went to the entrance, pushing aside the woven reed screen. Looking out, she mentally pointed to now-familiar sights. _There_ was the well, where she had drawn water countless times to clean this house. _There_ was the roof of Kaiko-sama's hut; the village headman had probed and pondered her flimsy story of leaving home to ease the burdens on her impoverished family before giving his blessing for her to stay in the village. _There_, just outside her door, was the woodpile she had gathered that morning.

_See this life I have moulded with my own hands._

_I do not need you. I am strong. I am free._

But even as she said the words to herself, she knew it for a lie. There was one thing she had not managed to do in her year of solitude; she had not wrested her heart back to herself. 

As if to make up the loss, her memories were vivid, brutally so. She remembered sleeping with nothing between her and the moon but leaves instead of a roof and shadows. She recalled days of excitement and discovery in place of mundane concerns. At night, when her guard was down, she remembered being happy, rediscovered the thrill of loving and being loved.

But when she woke, she would remember that it had never been so. She had only been deceiving herself. He did not love her, for all that he held her heart. She had _given_ it to him. And, until she somehow took it back, she would never be free.

She thought of Kagura, the wind youkai who had been so obsessed with gaining her freedom. The juxtaposition – the irony – between their situations was not lost to her.

Not for the first time, the foolish little voice inside whispered, "Return." And behind the single word was a dangerous temptation, an insidious persuasion.

If she returned, at least, she would be happy, even if that happiness had to balance against piercing pain. If she returned, perhaps she would one day love him less, and the pain would dull to an ache, leave behind only the joy of being with him.

Yet, bruised pride and aching hurt held her back. _What would he think if I come crawling back to him now? How will I face him, daily loving and daily wanting and daily denied._

She could still hear his voice, see his face, as he told her, so long ago: _Do what you want._

Sesshoumaru-sama, she realized anew, was unlike other people. He would not ridicule her for returning, would not lower himself to something as petty as spite.

Before she realized it, her foot lifted and came down on dusty, hard-packed earth in front of her door.

And then, for the second time, Rin walked away from a life she had built, without a word, without allowing herself to hesitate. Walked out of the house, away from the village, away from her place among humanity.

The decision has been reached; she would return to him. And perhaps, in time, she would find her heart again. And then...

_I am the wind,_ Kagura had said. _Someday, I shall be free._

Perhaps, Rin thought, they were more alike than she had known.

- - -

She found him – unnervingly – in the place where they had parted.

That traitorous voice of hope whispered that he had been waiting for her all this time.

She quashed it – too late; worry and hope and tenderness assaulted her.

He had his back to her again, just like that last time. Rin wondered if it was intentional, if this was his way of reminding her of how they had parted, or maybe he was inviting her to pick up where they had left off.

To change how events had unfolded.

The full import of the situation hit her; he was _there_, not ten paces away. Unchanged, still motionless, still beautiful, still _himself_.

In that moment, pain and joy twined together until one was indistinguishable from the other.

_Yes_, something exulted within her, this was _right_. _This_ was where she belonged, even if it was behind him and not at his side. It was enough that he allowed her to be with him; she cared not about anything else, would never leave him again.

Trembling, she stepped closer. "Sesshoumaru-sama." 

And with that, it was as if the past year vanished, as if it had never happened save in a dream. She was once again caught in that moment of indecision between pride and love, once again straining to hear his every breath and movement, trying to find _something_ to tell her what he was thinking.

There was nothing; he made no move, uttered no word.

And she knew that this was the way it would be, the way it had always been. The words would have to come from her; the actions would be hers.

The muscles in her legs quivered as she lowered herself to the ground, and she momentarily feared that she would collapse in a graceless, wretched heap.

She made it safely to her knees, never taking her eyes off him. "Rin has returned."

She spread one hand, and then the other on the uneven forest floor in front of her. It was so quiet that the rustle of her sleeves sounded loud in her ears. She bent, forehead a hairsbreadth above the point where her fingertips met. "I will follow and serve you, Sesshoumaru-sama, for as long as I can. That is what Rin wants to do."

There was stillness for a heartbeat, two. Her heartbeat quickened and her arms began to burn from the strain of maintaining the awkward position. Had she been wrong? Would he drive her away?

And then, at last, at long last, she heard him stir. "Rin."

"Hai," she whispered, still bowed, still abject. She held her breath, waiting for what he would say next.

"Iku zo."

She nearly slumped over in relief. "Hai!" she said and sat up.

By the time she was on her feet, he had already doubled the distance between them, strolling among the trees.

He did not look back.

She followed.

-end-

Glossary:   
_Gomen_ - Sorry  
_Hai_ - Yes  
_Iku zo_ - Let's go  
_Koto_ - Japanese harp


End file.
